


i loathed you first

by pourpl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Compliant - The Princess Diaries 2, Crack AU, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Galra Keith (Voltron), Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Platonic Heith, Royalty AU, Sexual Tension, The Princess Diaries 2 AU, allurance and kacxa but no one's rlly into it, broganes, haggar is lance's fricken aunt wtf im so sorry, keith is bad at feelings, keith is so gay lmao, lance is a suave bastard, literally i just wrote a lot of it off of the script i Hate Myself, prince AU, slowburn, trying to make the other jealous, wholesome heith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pourpl/pseuds/pourpl
Summary: Shiro leans over to look at him abashedly, nervously tearing his eyes between Keith and Lance. “Keith, would you care to welcome our guest?”Keith lets out a quick sigh, closing his eyes and turning his head towards Lance with all of his will, spreading the most ingenuine smile across his face. Shiro nods, pushing him forward. Keith feels his fists clench at his side, smile tremoring into clenched teeth. “Lord Lance,” His voice comes out dripping with sarcasm and he extends his hand to Lance before stomping on his foot with his entire body weight.He turns away, only feeling a little more satisfied, huffing out of the room as he hears Lance wince from behind him. “He always does that!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i was watching the princess diaries 2 on netflix after season 7 and i was like "wow this is legitimately everything voltron failed to give us!" so i started writing this with the help of @lanceyluv on twitter and honestly i know its stupid but its given me so much life in these dark times and it honestly just writes itself because lord nicholas is all like jfjjjsjmmmm and princess mia's all like nn!!! fsfsdjjfs lmao! i hope u enjoy and yes I know I have like 959299342 unfinished fics that i haven't updated in so long im SORRY i just suck at being a consistent writer

****

In the midst of his excessive channel searching and lazily picking duck feathers out of his pillows, something hits Keith’s window and his attention immediately shifts. Although it is difficult, Keith relinquishes himself from the comfort of his duvet to creep over to the window. He feels like a vampire when the sunlight hits him, unhindered by any clouds and beating down on his face intensely. He grits his teeth as his pupils adjust. 

On the lawn there are at least fifty gardeners, doing everything from trimming hedges and planting flowers to stocking the fountains with just enough lily pads and flossing the gargoyles’ teeth. They move methodically and stride with passion, like they responded ‘Castle Weeder’ at the age of ten when someone asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. 

Keith opens his transom windows so he can stick his head out, trying to investigate the thing that crashed into them. His gaze travels down to the ground below the flower boxes to see a small dove, lying with its claws in the air, dead on the cobblestone ground 5 stories below. He frowns. 

“Good morning, Your Highness! Happy birthday!” A gardener, presumably the one in charge, calls up to him from the lawn. “How are you doing?” 

“Oh. Hello.” Keith says coldly. He doesn’t mean to say it coldly. He never does. It just comes out that way. People think he’s an asshole; he’s heard it, and he knows it. 

The gardener’s smile falters a little, following Keith’s gaze down to under the window where the bird lies. The gardener gasps. “Oh my, oh, Your Highness, I’m so sorry! I--” 

“No, no, it’s okay…” Keith tries sincerity. 

The gardener stumbles and stutters, looking around frantically before beckoning a group of other gardeners to come pick up the bird and dispose of it carefully. 

Normally, the behavior makes Keith feel sick with privilege, but lately his position within the Galran monarchy leaves him feeling blazé and bored. 

“With age, none of this will faze you.” His brother Shiro would always tell him when he was little, embarrassed at his status and shy about the publicity.  

And it almost doesn’t faze him when Keith hears his name on the news channel he had just landed on. Coran, the infamous Galra-Altean journalist is on, talking about the recent scandal. Keith whips his head around and moves quickly to his bed, impulsively grabbing the remote to turn it off before stopping himself. Shiro reminds Keith constantly that he shouldn’t watch Coran’s segments--or any gossip channels, for that matter. He’s stayed away from press about this particular event intentionally, partially out of fear that he would never admit. But this spikes Keith’s curiosity, especially at the fact that they are bringing it up nearly half a year after it happened. Just this once, Keith feels indulgent.

He turns the TV up.

“Five months ago, our paparazzi caught Prince Keith of Daibazaal, at the Independence Day Ball, out in the royal courtyard, kissing a man.” Coran’s voice is even, but his eyebrows raise during the last part, making Keith’s stomach churn. 

A blurry photo of Keith and Rolo pop up on the screen, one that Keith knows has been plastered on billboards and magazines and headlines all over the world. It’s zoomed in and grainy, but there is no way to deny that it is Keith. 

“The aforementioned man was the young Rolo Smok, allegedly a former classmate of the Prince from the Garrison back in America. Now, this is all old news. But recently, at the mark of Prince Keith’s 21st birthday today, a discussion regarding this matter is presumably being had within the country’s parliament.” 

Keith’s immediate reaction is to dismiss this, because if something important was to be talked about within parliament, Shiro would usually let him now. Especially if it was involving Keith. Still, his stomach drops to his feet. 

“Prince Keith is officially of marrying age, and traditionally, Galran heirs marry once they are 21 in order to ‘prepare’ for the throne. In fact, this has been practiced consecutively for over 254 years. So, that being said--” 

Keith cuts off Coran as soon as he sees Adam enter the room. He is talking into his ear receiver, but puts it down slowly, gazing at the TV and then back at Keith, giving him a look. 

“I know, Adam, I know. I shouldn’t be watching that shit. It’s mostly lies, entirely fabricated around entertainment, and it will only make me feel worse about myself. I know.” 

Adam shrugs. “I was just going to say happy birthday.” 

Keith rolls his eyes. 

“On behalf of Shiro, too. He promises he will be joining you at breakfast.” 

“Where is he now?” Keith furrows his brow. 

“At a meeting. With parliament.” Adam says cautiously. 

“Are they talking about me? Being, you know….” Keith trails off, trying not to look too concerned. 

Adam gives a small smile. “You shouldn’t listen to those things. Listen to your brother.” 

Keith folds his arms, eyeing Adam and tapping his bicep with his forefinger. 

“And close those windows; that’s how you let birds in.”

* * *

Fortunately for himself, Keith is not an idiot. If he wants to learn information about a parliament meeting, he knows exactly how to get it. 

When he was little, Shiro used to take him up in a crawl space above the library, big enough to fit a puny Keith and slightly less puny Shiro so they could watch the parliament. It wasn’t that interesting to Keith, but Shiro was fascinated by it, and therefore Keith longed to be a part of it. They would watch their father stand and advocate for justice, liberty, and equality for every Galra. Shiro would stare with stars in his eyes, elbowing Keith and telling him he hopes he could rule half as great as their father one day. 

That was a long time ago. Long before Galra politics went from messy to dangerous. Long before Keith was separated from Shiro and his father and sent to America to grow up with his mother. Long before their father was killed and Shiro was enacted as King at the age of 17. 

But Keith still remembers how to get there like it was yesterday. Getting caught is the issue, but somehow Keith knew even if he does, no one will question him. Especially not on his birthday.

Luckily no one stops him, and he is up above the parliament chamber, looking through the vented grate and down onto the room. The viscountess is up on her feet, walking around the room, hands clasped and looking determined. 

“...There is no question about it. Prince Keith  _ cannot _ marry a man. With all do respect, Your Majesty, the world is not ready for a gay prince.  _ Daibazaal _ isn’t even ready for it. It is just not politically advantageous. But he  _ must _ marry.” 

Shiro speaks up, and Keith can see his hands clench at the side of his desk. “The  _ law _ , Viscountess Honerva, does not explicitly state that the heir must marry at the age of 21.” 

“Yes, I am aware, Your Majesty, but this is the most diplomatic decision. The Prince’s scandal is predominantly looked on as irresponsible. The majority of people cannot trust Prince Keith. It is in the polls. And if people can’t trust their government, they revolt. We are already unstable enough. And the Prince’s imprudent actions will only make our country worse. People cannot think that Prince Keith is gay. If he marries a woman, the rumors will be quelled.” 

Keith blinks at the room through the golden vent, each word pulling at something under his skin and stabbing into his stomach. He steps back from the vent, feeling like his heartbeat is so loud that someone must hear him there. 

“And what if he doesn’t marry a woman?” Prime Minister Sendak pipes up, tapping his pointer fingers to his lips. 

Honerva turns to him, a slight glean in her eye. “I propose that monarchical power shall be handed over to the Altean bloodline.” 

The entire room bursts into murmurs and gasps, even from the Altean representatives. They look at the viscountess with horrified expressions. Keith’s eyes widen. Shiro narrows his.

“Our two countries are politically involved in every sense besides the monarchy. It was King Alfor of Altea who brought our two countries together and ended the war when Zarkon threatened the stability of the world. Without the Alteans, Zarkon would have overpowered King Hiroshi. And Keith is just another example of the Galra being irresponsible with their leadership.” 

Shiro stands up from his seat, slamming his fist down on the table. “How dare you compare Keith to Zarkon?!” 

“Your Majesty, I am merely saying that the Galran Monarchy cannot be trusted to further provide for their people.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Shiro shouts, which causes other members of the Parliament to vocalize their complaints. Keith thinks about how everything that comes out of Honerva’s mouth sounds like a lie dipped in liquid metal. 

The Prime Minister hits his gavel on the table, shouting for the members of parliament to quiet. A hush falls over the group as clears his throat. “Listen. Although her beliefs are...radical...Viscountess Honerva proposes some legitimate concerns. But Prince Keith should be given a chance. I do believe that him marrying a woman would exponentially improve his appraisals for when he becomes King. People will see his fiasco as more of an….experiment. A one time thing.” 

Keith pushes the heels of his hands into his forehead, wondering how much more of this he can take. 

“What if he can’t do it?” Honerva poses, raising a thin eyebrow. 

“I suppose we can put a time-frame on it. Let’s say...a year.” The Prime Minister ruminates. 

“Give him 10 days.” Honerva says. 

“I will do 60 and no less.”

“Prime Minister, may I remind you that Keith’s 21st birthday is today, and these rumors have been spreading for five months now?” 

Shiro stands up from his seat again, pointing daggers at Honerva. “What kind of tricks are you trying to pull? You are a selfish,  _ narcissi-- _ ” 

“Your  _ Majesty _ .” The Prime Minister says, looking at him abashedly. He hits his gavel once. “If Keith doesn't marry a woman within the next month, leadership of the Galran people will be handed over to the Alteans. All those in favor?”

To Keith’s horror, a surprising amount of people raise their hands, fearfully, but with the right numbers. The motion is deemed before Keith can even blink. 

“But who is next in line for the Altean throne?” 

Before Keith can listen to Honerva’s answer he is shutting the grate flap and shuffling out of the crawl space feverishly, feeling like his ribs are threatening to crack open from his chest. His breath picks up speed and his legs turn to hot jelly and all he knows is that he needs to get out of the suffocating space and feel some fresh air on his sweat slicked skin. 

He bursts out of the castle doors without even remembering how he got there, running through the lawn and speeding past frightened gardeners, tripping over sticks and leaves and heading for the forest, tearing through the foliage and stopping at a clearing, as far away from people as he can possibly be. His chest heaves and fire crackles in his lungs, rising up through his throat and settling in a thick lump in his throat the size of a golf ball. He clutches his hands into his chest, trying his hardest to slow down his breathing. He takes thick, deep inhales that are interrupted by lapses of hiccups. Tears prick at the side of his eyes, threatening to spill over his cheeks and Keith is telling himself to  _ please don’t cry  _ over and over again because Keith  _ hates _ crying. 

But somethings are out of Keith’s control, and he’s been trying to convince himself of that ever since he was faced with the harsh realities of mortality and subsequent existentialism at the age of 5. 

So he lets himself crumble, knowing that no one is around to judge him or make him feel like a burden, fulling submitting to the emotions crawling inside of his skin and desperately trying to escape. He cries until he’s dehydrated and tired, still wishing that he was someone else but no longer making a fool out of the person he is forced to be. 

He lets his head fall back onto the tree behind him and breathes in with a few impediments. As he’s exhaling, he hears a rustle in the bushes in front of him. Keith holds the breath he was releasing, trying desperately to rub the presumptuous red out of his eyes. 

But when the figure sticks their head into the clearing, Keith is partially relieved to see it is Shiro. Shiro searches his face with a smile but drops when he reaches it, expression turning to confusion at his bleary-eyed brother. 

“I heard you ran out here. Keith, what’s wrong?” Shiro says softly, eyebrows upturned. 

Keith hesitates, wondering if he opens his mouth he will start crying again. He contemplates not telling Shiro at all. But Keith doesn’t have emotional outbursts like this. Not since he was little. It’s not Shiro’s fault. And he deserves an explanation. Keith draws in another precarious breath. 

“I heard...about the verdict…” 

Shiro’s eyes widen but then his jaw slacks. He lets out a huff of air through his nose. “Did you watch through the grate in the crawlspace?” 

Keith nods, feeling the lump begin to form in his throat again. Keith pinches his mouth in, willing himself to  _ shut up.  _ Shiro purses his lips and his eyes fill with pity. Keith wants to gag himself. Shiro crouches down next to him at the tree. 

“Hey,” Shiro says warmly, in the same soothing voice he would use when Shiro was a teenager and Keith was four, scraping his knee on the pavement or something. Only now, Keith is 21 and at the front lines of homophobic blackmail, and Shiro is dressed in militaristic suit and sashes and draped in crimson robes. “I promise it’s going to be okay.” 

Keith shakes his head furiously, sending angry tears to dry in the wind. “You can’t promise that, Shiro.” 

“It’s just a publicity stunt.” 

“I don’t want an arranged marriage.” Keith whispers.

“I know how you feel, Keith.” Shiro sits down, crossing his legs which looks idiotic in his lavish Kingswear. “My marriage was arranged too.” 

“I  _ know _ , but…” 

“No, you don’t know. You don’t know the extent of it, I…” Shiro trails off, and Keith sees him curl his hands into fists out of his peripheral. “The point is, I didn’t want it at all. I was dealing with enough, trying to rebuild our country… They forced it on me because it was tradition. But there were good sides too. We grew very fond of each other.” 

“I don’t want to just ‘grow fond’ of them!” Keith shouts, before shutting his eyes and cursing himself for taking this out on Shiro. “I don’t want to be with anyone. At all.” 

“I know you don’t. But sometimes, as leaders, we have to make tough decisions. It’s for the good of our country. And you know just as well as I do that keeping power in the hands of the Galra is the right thing to do.” 

Keith shakes his head, though he doesn’t know at what. 

“Listen to me, Keith.” Shiro forces Keith to look at him. “You deserve this throne. You are entitled to it, more than any Altean. They have helped us a lot. But they are not Galra. They don’t know Daibazaal.” 

Keith pulls his face away, focusing his eyes on a log of wood that is covered in moss and flies. “I don’t deserve it. They compared me to Zarkon…” 

Shiro grabs Keith’s chin and pulls it back, looking at him in the eyes. “You are  _ nothing _ like Zarkon. Okay? You are  _ nothing like him _ . There is nothing wrong with you, Keith. And I know things seem tough now… The world feels entirely against you… But those backwards parliament members will replaced by people who see the future inside of you. And you can make a change in the world. You don’t deserve to be silenced for who you are. And once you are King, you can make sure it never happens again. Okay?” 

Keith inhales Shiro’s words, and this time he doesn’t struggle to take it in. For all the horrible things in the universe, he would be nothing without Shiro. He nods, and Shiro smiles. 

Someone else suddenly rustles through the bushes, and Keith and Shiro’s heads follow the noise. Adam comes through, face rock hard but softening when he sees the two. 

“I found them.” He says into his receiver and then drops it. “Are you okay, Your Majesty?” 

“Yes.” Shiro responds delicately, accepting Adam’s offer to help him up. When he stands, he is close to Adam, hand still dangling lazily from his. “Thank you.” 

“And I’m fine, too. Thanks for wondering, Adam.” Keith says monotonously, raising an eyebrow. They separate, a light blush appearing on Shiro’s cheeks. 

“C’mon, Keith. I think we have a little birthday surprise for you back in the castle.” 

Keith stands up to follow them, deciding to brush off the weird encounter he just witnessed along with the knowing smile they shared before they departed. 

* * *

When they arrived in the castle, many maids and assistants were bustling about, dusting shelves, mopping floors, and setting place cards. But Keith’s head was in the clouds, walking through without really noticing, lead by Adam and Shiro into the kitchen. 

A beautiful breakfast was piping hot and layed out for them at the table, complete with deviled eggs, assorted--freshly baked--pastries, waffles and pancakes, fruit bowls and baguettes, freshly squeezed orange juice, and a variety of meats and cheeses. Keith gaped at it all, letting the scent of butter, syrup and garlic waft from the table and making his stomach ache, suddenly realizing how starving he was. 

“This is a great birthday surprise, Shiro.” Keith murmurs. “Please send my compliments to Haxus and Thace.” 

Shiro and Adam share another look, and then Shiro gives Keith a devious smile. “This isn’t the surprise.” Keith raises an eyebrow. “Well, it’s part of it, but… you shouldn’t be thanking Haxus and Thace because--” 

Adam puts a hand in front of Shiro, stopping him. “Hunk, come on in!” 

Keith skids in his tracks. “Wait, did you say  _ Hunk _ ?” 

“Surprise!” Hunk walks out from the pantry, opening his arms wide. Keith beams, trying not to be too eager when he runs into him for a bear hug. 

“Hunk!” Keith cries. “I can’t believe you’re here. How long were you waiting in that cabinet for?” 

“Like an hour and a half.” Hunk shrugs. “I don’t care, though. I couldn’t miss your birthday party!” Hunk says, rocking Keith back and forth. 

Keith looks up at Hunk, eyebrows furrowed. Then he remembers. “Oh no, I have a party tonight, don’t I?” 

“Did you forget?” Shiro says from behind him. 

“Well… kinda!” Keith grumbles. “I try and suppress social gatherings out of my consciousness.” 

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be there, and it’ll be great.” Hunk assures. 

Keith sighs, slumping down at the table. They begin eating, idly chatting about Hunk’s time in Berkley and how it compared to the Garrison. Keith eats way more than he should, feeling like his buttons are going to fly off of his pants and shatter Adam’s glasses across the table. Hunk’s cooking is just that addictive. 

But once he is finally finished, his maids usher him upstairs to get ready for the party, despite it being eight hours away. 

“You have to look your best, Your Highness!” Romelle quips and Ezor agrees, pushing him into his closet--right where he belongs.  

* * *

Outside, while numerous dukes, duchesses, counts and countesses are exiting their limos, Keith is waiting for everyone to get inside so he can be announced. His foot taps on the ground anxiously, wishing that Adam let Hunk stay with him and hating the fact that he has to paraded to the front in stiff uniform and crown like a show pony. And the fact that he has to dance with all the eligible bachelorettes in Daibazaal tonight. “It’s tradition, Keith.” Shiro had said, reminding him tradition is the worst excuse for everything lately. Like he said, he is getting used to it. But when the attention is forced on him for big extravagant parties that he doesn’t even want for himself--he gets angsty. Especially after the events of today. All he wants to do was lay in his bed with a pillow over his face and force the world to disappear. 

But the world is here, celebrating his birthday, with every eye on him. 

In another corridor, bursting with presents piled to the ceiling, the entire team awaits Shiro; interns and assistants and secret service bustling around in preparation. The head assistant Sanda struts down the hallway telling the agents to: “Get into places, Look alive. The King is coming.” She walks to meet Adam, reminding him of The King’s double door entrance. 

Adam’s head falls into his inner suit jacket pocket. “The eagle is flying. Repeat, the eagle is flying.” 

Sanda touches her ear. “He’s in the foyer.” 

Then out walks Shiro, dressed to the nines in rich purple robes with traditional white ermine fur lining, accented with a double gold velvet banding trim. His crowned head is held high as he walks down the hallway with grace and poise. 

Adam grins at him earnestly, looking at him with awe before raising an eyebrow. “You’re late, Your Majesty.” 

“A king is never late.” Shiro corrects. “Everyone else is simply early.” 

“Of course.” Adam bows and lifts his head a little to give Shiro an enigmatic wink. He gestures towards the doors and Shiro is announced. 

“His Majesty: Takashi Shirogane, King of Daibazaal!

” 

When the doors are opened, the loquacious crowd quiets and falls into attention at the sound of the trumpets playing for Shiro’s entrance. 

Shiro, unlike Keith, grew up entirely enveloped in royal proceedings and the extravagance of it all, never once seeing it as an over-the-top sort of thing--because it was all he ever knew. When Keith went to live with his small-town mother and attend the Garrison, he learned how normal people lived, and grew attached to the average American lifestyle. But he wasn’t destined to be an average American. And what separated the two, was that Shiro knew that from the start. He had lived his whole life understanding it. He revelled in the spotlight of being a King sometimes, despite his warm mannerism and being a people-person. So he walked out into the ballroom and let the horns proclaim his arrival, and basked in the parting of the sea of guests, waiting for him to speak. How could one not?

“Greetings, good friends.” Shiro said warmly, spreading his arms to the crowd. They all bowed for him. “I am delighted to welcome you here this evening. Will you please raise your glasses in celebration of my brother, Prince Keith’s, 21st birthday?” 

Everyone turned and faced the entrance steps, and Keith stood at the door, cracking his neck and letting Ezor pull down his red velvet uniform and straighten his crown while Romelle fixes his sash and lapels.

“Presenting, his Royal Highness, Ki-Ok Jun Kogane, Prince of Daibazaal.” 

There is a drumroll, and for a moment Keith lets himself smile at the use of his birth names his mother gave him, wanting him to have fragments of his Korean side in his identity, even if she knew she would call him Keith for the ease of others. 

The doors open into him and Keith doesn’t smile, walking out onto the balcony to stand over people he should be 6 feet under. He’s used to the lapels and the white gloves, he is used to the entrance and the horns, but tonight the spotlight was even more focused on him, and he wasn’t having it. He looks down at Shiro, who gives him a genuine smile, calming one of his 5,000 nerves that were on fire. 

“To Prince Keith.” He says, raising his glass. The room echoes. 

Keith finds Hunk, who points at his own mouth suggestively and then gives an exaggerated smile. Keith furrows his brow but then understands, trying to muster up some sort of facial expression that implies he is having a good time. He ends up looking like he’s constipated. Hunk sighs. 

* * *

The night drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace, and one by one, Keith dances with the various Galra women. They’re all pretty, and most of them are fairly nice, but Keith can tell a lot of them are just as bored with him as he is with them. 

There’s one with a long green gown that keeps trying to speak Greek to him, and he keeps telling her that he has no idea what she’s saying, but she just keeps talking in Greek. And that isn’t even nearly the worst of them. 

There’s another who is terrible at dancing and keeps counting out loud and staring down at her feet, and maybe Keith would feel sorry for her if he was in a better mood, but he mostly just feels annoyed. 

Hunk stands from the sidelines chatting with many guests smoothly, always a charmer and never awkward. He tries all of the food as it is passed around and then turns to someone near him, explaining the layers of flavor and intricacies of texture.

“Have you met the Prince yet?” A dutchess asks someone near him. 

“Briefly, but he wasn’t very friendly.” They respond.

“I got a hello, and goodbye. Is this an American custom?” Someone from Olkarion asks the others. 

Later Hunk finds Keith obviously trying to escape his many bachelorettes, digging into his own birthday cake with a fork callously. 

“Keith!” Hunk hisses. 

“What?” Keith says through a large mouthful. 

“Get a plate!” Hunk scolds, grabbing him one and slicing through the cake to get a piece. “If you eat it like that, you can’t get your fork through all the layers like the baker intends.” 

Hunk manages to get all 4 layers in one forkful for Keith and hands him the fork, letting him taste it. “Mmm, there’s the ganache, and the vanilla is so buttery, right? See?” 

Keith nods, closing his eyes and chewing the cake thoughtfully, wishing he could see food half as beautifully as Hunk does. Mostly he just eats to keep his metabolic system intact. 

While his eyes are closed he reaches out for Hunk to hand him another forkful but ends up walking right into someone and stepping on their foot instead. 

His eyes flash open and he sees a boy about his age with eyes like the color of a drop-off at the ocean, right before the water gets deep. His skin is warm and deep against these strikingly bright eyes, a contrast that would send designers reeling about the perfect complexion. And when he smiles, a dimple burns a crater in the skin below his left eye, surrounded by a jungle of freckles. 

Keith’s skin feels like it’s about to corrode from his face because of the heat that begins burning there and suddenly words are not coming out of his mouth even though he just stepped his huge stupid foot all over this beautiful boy’s. 

“M-mm. Sorrhy.” He eventually gets out, trying his absolute hardest not to vomit over the shoes he probably ruined. 

“I’ll survive, Your Highness.” The boy shrugs with this smirk that could only be described as devilish and Keith hates his life even more because the boy’s voice sounds like melting butter on a tepid pancake and watching it fall off the side and seep into the bacon on your plate. “The fault was entirely my own. I apologize.” 

“N-no, no.” Keith coughs and sputters simultaneously, trying to collect himself and stop acting like a child. “It was me. I’m sorry.” 

“You want to exchange licenses and proof of insurance?” The boy asks with a slight pitch of his eyebrow. 

“Those shoes look a bit big anyway, the swelling will probably help them fit better.” Keith bites back, not really trying to flirt but just sort of letting his monotonous sarcasm get the boy laughing. He places a hand on Keith’s shoulder and moves along. 

When Keith looks at Hunk he is already staring at him, eyes set and mouth curled. 

“What?” Keith asks. Hunk just shakes his head, scoffing lowly at him. “What?” 

Keith would be lying if he said heat didn’t radiate from the spot the boy touched like he would never forget the feeling. He would also be lying if he said he didn’t continue to hear the boy’s laugh ringing in his skull like the crescendo of an orchestra as he moves on to dance with more girls, trying not to yawn as another shuffles in and he rests his hand on her back. 

And then one tries tangoing on him in this overtly seductive manner that has Keith wanting to leave the room and hide in a corner for the rest of his adult life. And another is so jagged with her movements that Keith is surprised she didn’t bring a rose to bite between her red lips. Hunk watches from the side in horror, trying to give Keith encouraging smiles every time he mouths a “help me” in his direction. 

Keith eventually reaches his limit and steps outside for some air, chest almost heaving by the time he gets there. Through the glass doors everything is muffled and begins to fade out of his foreground. He can hear the methodical hum of cicadas close by, and he places his hands on the railing, looking over the garden below and watching all the trees and bushes crash into each other in the softest way. He rips off his gloves because he’s sweating and everything feels constricting at this point. In the moonlight, he looks down at his hands and wonders if in a month his finger will have a permanent ring on it, one that he can’t just take off when it all feels too much. The door opens behind Keith and he freezes, praying that it’s not some blonde haired floozy trying to get him alone. 

“Come out here to change into a wolf?” A browned-butter voice says, and Keith turns around to see the boy from before, face casted in shadow but eyes still piercing into Keith’s skin. 

“What?” 

“It’s a full moon, Your Highness.” The boy gestures to the orb floating above them that suddenly seems to take a backseat to bask in the light of this boy.

“Keith. Just--call me Keith.” And Keith silently pats himself on the back for finally getting a coherent sentence out. “And you are?” 

“Lance. Just Lance.” He smiles like that’s just natural form, like his resting face is just utter joy and contentment, and part of Keith is super jealous at his charisma. “Are you enjoying your party, Keith?” 

Keith opens his mouth to say yes, but all that comes out is a deflated breath of air. He leans back on the railing and Lance comes over to join him, Keith’s heart picking up speed with his proximity. 

“What, all this irritating attention and stale conversation not your thing? Or is it the terrible dancing that makes you want to puke?” 

“The dancing is truly the worst part.” Keith scoffs, and does everything in his power not to look at Lance because he knows that his eyes will get stuck and he will end up staring. 

Unfortunately for him, Lance steps right in front of Keith’s face, eyes glinting with an idea. Keith swallows roughly. “How about I show you how it’s done?” 

Technically Keith didn’t just down a bucket of mud that went straight to his brain cavity, but it sure feels like it for a second while he tries to comprehend Lance’s request and simultaneously not keel over. It’s a difficult thing to ask when a pretty boy with a curl dripping into his eye and constellations right on his cheeks is looking at you like that and asking you that sort of question. 

“Uh,” is all Keith can vocalize before Lance is dragging him by a hand carved by Gods and out into the middle of the balcony. He places one hand on Keith’s back and the other he uses to clasp Keith’s in a way that’s somehow firm and delicate at the same time. Keith must be looking at Lance like he’s about to meet his demise because Lance sobers. 

“It’s okay. No one’s looking at us.” He says at the volume of a whisper and then drags Keith’s legs out from under him, moving effortlessly and guiding Keith to do so as well, swinging him across the deck. Keith is glad he took his glove off because Lance’s hand is in his with one less layer of fabric. But then again, he’s glad Lance has his on because he knows his palms are sweating wildly. 

“I’m glad to see your dancing is not incapacitated by my clumsiness.” Keith says, submitting to the notion that he must look into Lance’s eyes or his mind will never forgive him for not letting himself this memory. 

Lance laughs again, and Keith wants to put it in a music box. “You’re funny.” 

“I’m not trying to be.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry for stepping on your foot.” Keith says, because he’s run out of things to say and that’s all he can think about. 

Lance drops his voice. “You can step on my foot anytime.” 

Keith outwardly rolls his eyes but inwardly feels like his stomach is going to tear through his abdomen and drop onto his welcoming foot because before Keith wasn’t sure if Lance was flirting, but now it’s quite obvious. Even if it’s terrible flirting. 

Of course he tries to convince himself that Lance is just a nice boy, and only dancing with him because he feels bad, because that’s a safer thought to have. One where Keith’s heart doesn’t end up inevitably broken. Thinking rationally, it makes no sense for a pretty boy like Lance to like Keith. In other circumstances it could be for the money and notoriety, but not for someone who would be invited to a party like this. No, Keith can tell by the hand on Lance’s shoulder coated in a thick jacket that he is  _ not _ poor, and probably has plenty of clout in the first place. Pity is the only reasonable explanation.

“Keith?” A voice says from behind them and they stop dancing, dragging their eyes away from each other and towards the door where Hunk is. 

Keith immediately detaches himself from Lance.

“Keith, what are you doing out here?” Hunk says slowly, less asking and more just expressing his disapproval.

“We w--” Keith begins, but Lance cuts him off. 

“I’m Lance. You must be the Prince’s friend? It was entirely my fault. His highness wanted a break and I pulled him into a dance. It was silly of me. My apologies.” And Lance bows to Hunk, giving Keith time to curse every force in the universe for making this boy so goddamn perfect. 

Hunk looks back in forth from the two boys, an extremely amused expression spreading on his face. Keith tells him with his eyes not to say a solitary word. “Well, Shiro’s looking for you, Keith. Says you have to meet more members of parliament.” 

“But I already met seven! How many more are there?” Keith whines. 

“I don’t know!” Hunk puts his hands up in surrender. 

“It’s okay. I should be going anyway. It was lovely meeting you, Keith.” Lance says, giving him a wink before he disappears. 

“‘Keith’?” Hunk echoes once he’s gone. 

“Shut up.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i'm alive who would have thunk! i promise i'm actually going to write this just be patient with me i have a lot on my plate.  
> here's a short chapter to tide you over.

Keith stands in the foyer of the castle, waiting to welcome Viscountess Honerva and her nephew, the person who is parliament’s first choice as an Altean successor. Keith is dressed in a form-fitting suit. Normally he would settle for track pants around the castle, but today Adam reminded him to dress nicely. Not only was he being forced to live with the people trying to usurp the throne from him, but he had to dress business-like for them? He  looked at himself in the mirror. His hair is pissing him off today, and for some reason it decides to refuse to lay right. He plays with the pieces that fall over his forehead as if that will help, but instead it just makes him look like even more of an idiot. Normally he doesn’t give one shit about his appearance, but it’s times like last night where he sees the kind of appearances other people around him are sporting when he worries about his lack of charm. He’s bland and typical looking, never really paying much attention when he passes a mirror or caring much about how his hair lays when he hops out of bed in the morning. But he’s going to be King soon, so maybe this is a good time to start. Unfortunately, his hair is still not cooperating, regardless of Keith’s progressivism. He blows his bangs upwards with a tight lips. 

 

“The viscountess is not staying. Just the nephew. Adam, I want you to protect him and keep your eye on him at all times.” Keith hears Shiro directing down the hallway, followed closely by Adam. 

 

“Of course.” Adam responds. 

 

“Hello.” Keith says, turning to them. “Is this all right to welcome the viscountess and her nephew?” 

 

“Very appropriate and handsome.” Shiro nods. Keith turns back to the mirror, not ready to give up on his unruly hairstyle just yet. His hands fly up to the back of his neck where he seems to almost be growing a mullet. 

 

“I can’t believe Parliament invited the guy who’s trying to steal the throne to stay here with us at the palace.” Keith laments, tugging at this roots. 

 

“Oh no, Parliament didn’t invite him.” Shiro says, joining Keith at the mirror. “I did.” 

 

Keith flips around, sputtering at his brother who walks away smugly from the mirror. 

 

“I offered to have him hanged by his toes in our courtyard.” Adam pipes up. 

 

“Yeah! What about that suggestion?” Keith protests, on the verge of whining. 

 

“No. If there’s any mischief going on, I’d prefer it to be right under my nose.” Shiro says, sitting down gently in an embroidered chair. 

 

“I just don’t want to be nice to this guy, you know?” Keith fumes, pacing around the foyer. “He is rude, he’s arrogant, and self-centered, he’s…” 

 

“Have you met him?” Shiro shoots back. 

 

Keith scoffs but surrenders. “...No.” 

 

“Neither have I.” Shiro says. 

 

“Yeah, but he probably is, Shiro.” Keith insists. “I mean, like now, all of the sudden out of nowhere he wants to be the King of Daibazaal? What is that about?” 

 

“Whatever he is, we will be charm itself.” Shiro says lightly. “We will present ourselves with grace and poise.” 

 

“Announcing Viscountess Honerva and Lord McClain.” 

 

Keith sighs and straightens himself while Shiro stands up, folding his hands innocently in front of him and resting on an easy smile. Keith tries his best not to look like he wants to gouge his own intestines out of his stomach. 

 

The guards open the door and in walks Honerva first, head held high and eyebrow pitched slightly upwards in an expression that makes her look perpetually evil. 

 

“Your Majesty.” She says buoyantly. “Your Highness.” 

 

“Honerva.” Shiro says gracefully, but still edging with stiffness as he kisses Honerva’s hand. 

 

She steps aside, to reveal her nephew that follows her, and Keith’s jaw falls down to his waist. 

 

In walks the boy from the night before, dressed in a stunning gray suit with a blue lapel, and topped with hair that lays perfectly over his forehead in soft chestnut waves. Keith is so shocked he completely freezes in place, hands falling at his sides, eyes like saucepans, looking around to see if someone is playing a stupid trick on him. This boy, this dazzling perfect boy, has absolutely zero chance of being the same person who is trying to kick his family out of royal lineage. It is utterly impossible, and Keith is sure there is some kind of mistake. He stares at the boy to discern his true identity with a trillion different emotions bubbling up under the surface. 

 

“May I introduce my nephew, Lord Lance McClain.” Honerva beams. Keith blinks in hope of cleansing his eyes of the sight and revealing that Keith is just hallucinating. To his great dismay, Lance still stands in front of him, extending a hand to Shiro with a gleam in his eye. 

 

“Lance, we are delighted to make your acquaintance.” Shiro says candidly, innocent and unaware of his brother’s intense consternation.

 

“Your Majesty, the pleasure is all mine.” Lance says like a goddamn angel, glowing as he wraps both of his hands around Shiro’s. Keith moves from shocked to furious. Why is he acting all high-and-mighty? And perfect? How could he have not told Keith who he was? Obviously he is a fake and a liar and everything Keith expected he would be, only just…not the person he expected. “Thank you so much for inviting me to stay at the palace.” 

 

Shiro smiles, shooting a look over to Keith who is speechless and practically shaking. “May I present my brother, Keith?” 

 

Keith drags his gaze away, foot beginning to tap angrily under him. He doesn’t even want to look at Lance or the viscountess, afraid that if he lets his mouth say a single world he will literally start spitting fire at them. He can’t even bare to make eye contact. 

 

“Your Highness.” Lance regards casually. 

 

Keith, still staring at the ground, nods quickly, biting his lip and trying to control the swell of acrimony that is rising like bile in his throat. 

 

Shiro leans over to look at him abashedly, nervously tearing his eyes between Keith and Lance. “Keith, would you care to welcome our guest?” 

 

Keith lets out a quick sigh, closing his eyes and turning his head towards Lance with all of his will, spreading the most ingenuine smile across his face. Shiro nods, pushing him forward. Keith feels his fists clench at his side, smile tremoring into clenched teeth. “ _ Lord _ Lance,” His voice comes out dripping with sarcasm and he extends his hand to Lance before stomping on his foot with his entire body weight. 

 

He turns away, only feeling a little more satisfied, stomping out of the room as he hears Lance wince from behind him. “He always does that!” 

 

“Oh uh, I will personally get some ice for that foot, and I’ll be with you as quickly as I possibly can!” He hears Shiro call. 

 

“An accident.” Adam says, approaching Honerva. 

 

“Of course.” She says smoothly, dropping her tight smile and following the limping Lance out of the foyer. 

 

In the kitchen, Keith sits at the table, stuffing his face with the leftovers of Hunk’s croissants and trying to cool himself off. Though every time he gets close, he just sees Lance’s deviously beautiful face and he just wants to punch something this time. 

 

Shiro strides in, absolutely irate. “Would you care to explain what was going on out there?!” 

 

“Sorry.” Keith mumbles through a mouthful. “I have met Lord Lance. At the party. Last night. I didn’t know who he was, so... We kind of danced. And I flirted.” 

 

Realization and a dash of pity washes over Shiro’s face and he slumps down next to Keith. 

 

“I feel so stupid right now.” Keith murmurs, tearing off another piece of croissant with his teeth.

 

“I see.” Shiro says cautiously. “Well, as your King, I absolutely cannot condone such an act. But as your brother, I say… right on.” 

 

Keith sneaks a look at Shiro, giving him a little smile. He knew that he would understand, even if it meant being a royal embarrassment as always. Shiro wraps an arm around him and nestles Keith’s head under his chin. Then he pulls him out at arm's length, gives him an encouraging smile, and leaves with a bag of ice. Keith slumps in his seat. 

 

Hunk comes in then, an apron tied around his waist, talking to one of the assistant cooks. When he sees Keith and Shiro, his face lights up. The cook flusters and bows. “Hey, I was just going over some recipes with Antok here. He’s a fabulous chef. We want to do something special for the luncheon coming up in a few weeks.” He looks at Keith who is still slumped over the pastries. “Is everything okay, Keith?” 

 

Keith sighs. “Remember how I was telling you that I have to marry a woman in a month or the throne will be usurped by the Altean heir?” 

 

Hunk’s hands drop to his sides. “Yeah?” 

 

“Well, the Altean heir is the boy I was dancing with last night. And he’s here to live with us.” 

 

Hunk’s face falters and he shoots a look at Antok, who bows politely and scurries out of the room. Keith puts his face in his hands and Hunk sits next to him, gingerly placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

 

“Keith, I’m so sorry.” Hunk’s comfort-voice soothes.“We can’t let that bastard get the throne, can we?” 

 

Keith looks up from his hands. “No, I guess we can’t.” 

 

“So...let’s find you a wife!” Hunk says half-heartedly, giving Keith a similar smile to the one Shiro just gave. Keith forces a grin back, only finding solace in the fact that he will never let Lance see the day where he gets to sit on the Daabizal throne. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? wow i am truly chaotic

Later that afternoon, Adam and Sanda pop up some popcorn and begin projecting slides of eligible women across Daabizal in the movie theater. Hunk and Keith recline in chairs, joined by Shiro and their dog Kosmo, who curls himself around Keith’s feet. 

 

“Madam Zethrid Emulian.” Sanda announces, passing back a fresh batch from the popcorn machine to Shiro and Adam who sit behind Keith and Hunk. A broad shouldered woman flashes on the screen, along with her Residence (West Daabizal), Age (28), and Hobbies (Hunting). Keith grimaces. 

 

“No, not appropriate. She’s a compulsive gambler.” Shiro dismisses. Keith sighs a breath of relief, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his face. The screen changes again, this time displaying the Prince of England. Keith chokes on his mouthful. 

 

“ _ What _ ?” Hunk breathes. 

 

“Prince William.” Sanda scoffs. “He’s not eligible because he’s in line for his own crown. And well...” 

Keith gives her a look, tightening his lips. 

 

“Why is he included in this pictures, Sanda?” Adam voices from behind them.  

 

“I just love to look at him.” Sanda shrug. 

 

“Mm.” Shiro hums. 

 

“Me too.” Hunk agrees. 

 

“Understandable.” Adam nods. 

 

‘“Cruel.” Keith spits.  

 

“Next?” Shiro asks. 

 

“Narti Angeles Ashmolian.” Sanda says. A picture comes up on screen of a woman with a tiny waist and broad hips, frowning at the camera. “Is a gymnast. No title, but good family.” 

 

“How about the title ‘wife’? She’s cute.” Hunk says. 

 

“And she smiles like Keith.” Shiro jokes. 

 

“No.” Keith says plainly. 

 

Keith can hear Shiro’s huff of disapproval from behind him. The slide switches again.

 

“Governess Dayak.” 

 

“Too old.” Keith calls out immediately. 

 

“Princess Katherine Holt.” 

 

“Too young.” Keith scrunches up his nose. 

 

“Ladnok Prominthian?” 

 

“Hasn’t she been arrested like, three times?” Keith whines.

 

“Maybe, but only for embezzlement.” Adam yawns. “Who hasn’t?” 

 

Hunk chuckles. Keith can’t find it in him to even smile. 

 

“Florona Alexandria.” 

 

“She looks like a mermaid.” 

 

“What’s wrong with that?” Hunk says. 

 

“Now you’re just being picky.” Shiro says.

 

“So what?”  Keith turns around abruptly, causing Shiro and Adam to hike up their shoulders. “If I’m going to have to marry this person, shouldn’t I be picky?” 

 

“Well Keith, you’re going to have to pick  _ somebody _ .” Shiro says with a little bite. 

 

Adam lays a hand on Shiro’s forearm. “This can’t be at all enjoyable for him.” 

 

“I know, but at least he’s getting options.” 

 

“Just because you didn’t, doesn’t mean I should be happy about it!” Keith snaps back. 

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t let him choose.” Sanda suggests. “How can he even discern between these women? None of them are even attractive to him.” 

 

Keith whips his head back around to look at her. Kosmo’s head lifts up. “I can tell whether someone is attractive or not! I’m gay because I’m not attract _ ed _ to them, not because all women look like figureless blobs to me!” 

 

She purses her lips and taps her fingernails on her clipboard. Keith slumps down in his seat. Kosmo puts his paws on his lap, resting his head soothingly on his legs. Keith deflates, folding himself over him in an pitiful attempt to hide. 

 

“What about her?” Hunk pipes, and Keith uses all of his willpower to lift his head up an inch. On screen is a girl about his age with black hair that almost catches purple in the light, a plain face with sharp eyes and an emotionless expression. 

 

“Dutchess Acxa of Thayserix.” Shiro says. “I wonder I didn’t think of her before.” 

 

“Well, she’s titled. She’s a known diplomat and an incredible fencer. She could certainly help Keith run a country without an ego getting in the way. She’s attractive, and smart, but not arrogant.” Sanda advises. 

 

“I’ve heard she’s very easy-going.” Adam muses. 

 

“Keith needs easygoing, don’t you buddy?” Hunk says softly, patting Keith on his back. 

 

“Fine. Whatever.” 

 

“All we’re asking is for you to meet right now, okay, Keith?” Shiro has stood up and walked over to Keith, now joining Hunk’s hand on Keith’s back. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

 

* * *

 

As much as Keith dreads it, the date planned between him and Acxa is inevitable. There is no use pretending that it wasn’t, because it would only leave Keith with a false hope that this was all a dream, or he was going to be on Prank’d and they would all have a big old laugh and move on. 

 

Shiro tries to plan something as unique and fun for Keith as possible, going with a friendly fencing match down at the beach. It is quite awkward for a first date, but at least Keith can just put on his helmet and pretend like it’s just another fencing day. Only they are on the beach, being followed by reporters and Shiro and Adam and Sanda, and he’s fencing with the candidate for his wife. 

 

When they arrive at the beach, Keith is pleasantly surprised to find that Acxa is already there, dressed in full fencing gear and holding her helmet lazily under her arm. “Your highness.” 

 

She gives a small curtsy and extends her gloved hand for Keith to kiss it. He hears a hundred camera’s tick off behind him, flashing rapidly at the picture-perfect image. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dutchess.” Keith says stiffly. 

 

“Oh, no. You can just call me Acxa.” She smiles back politely. Keith relaxes a little. 

 

“Do you like my outfit?” She says abruptly, but luckily doesn’t give Keith much time to come up with an answer. “My mother told me it was atrocious for a first date with the Prince, but if we’re fencing, I should wear my gear. We wouldn’t want me bleeding out, now would we?” 

 

Keith cracks a bit of a smile. “No, we wouldn’t.” 

 

“And you’re wearing fencing gear, too. So take that, Mom.” She says, turning around to the press and flashing a glare. When she’s facing away, Keith can really see the waves hair that cascade down her back. 

 

“Is your hair actually purple?” 

 

She turns back around, eyes dropping. “Yeah, I wish it was shorter, but my Mom said that I would look like a boy. It’s quite annoying to get up into a helmet.” 

 

Keith nods as if he understands, watching her run her fingers through it slowly. 

 

“Are you ready to spar?” She says. 

 

“Sure.” Keith replies. They both put their helmets on and back away from each other, a few attendees running to hand them swords. 

 

“Now, I’m going to go easy on you, Your Highness, but not  _ too _ easy, because I’ve heard you may have fenced before.” 

 

“I’m not an ameteur.” Keith says plainly. 

 

“Everyone’s a rookie compared to me.” Keith can hear the bite in her voice even through the muffling of the helmet. He smiles. 

 

They start off slow, but Keith can tell she’s holding back when he almost gets an edge on her. After that, she goes much harder, and moves much swifter than Keith could ever imagine to. He can keep up, but he fatigues much quicker than her and goes from losing by a hair to losing miserably every round. 

 

After her fourth or fifth victory, Acxa removes her helmet, hair falling out silkily around her shoulders. She shoots him a grin. “You sure aren’t an ametuer, but you’re definitely a rookie.” 

 

He takes off his helmet and smiles back, shocked that she isn’t even breathing half as hard as he is. “I’m going to surrender now. For my own sake.” 

 

“You put up a good fight.” She shrugs, pulling off some of her padding. 

 

“You’re just saying that because you feel bad for me.” 

 

When Acxa’s padding falls to her sides, Keith sees she’s wearing a snug purple sundress with small jewels that glitter in the sun. 

 

“What?” She says when she sees Keith staring. “My Mother had to have some say in my outfit!” 

 

He smiles and reveals his own suit, hearing one of the reporters just within earshot. 

 

“She was an olympic swimmer, rides motorcycles, loves photography, and she’s a pilot in the Royal Air Force.” 

 

More attendees rush to their sides and place a warm coat around Keith’s shoulders, and some sunglasses and a trench coat for Acxa. Keith doesn’t know much about hair, but he definitely thinks that it’s abnormal for someone’s to look that good after being in a helmet for an hour. 

 

“Shall we walk?” She says, gesturing out by the ocean. Keith nods. 

 

As they trudge slowly against the wind, they chat idly about nothing in particular, Keith being polite and concise, and Acxa leading most of the conversation. Keith makes a quick decision that he likes her. Her voice is relatively deep and monotonous, not like he would have expected from many of the Duchesses he had met. She does most of the talking and laughs at Keith’s non-attempts to be funny, even though he knows she doesn’t think he is. She’s blatantly intelligent and doesn’t hide her courage and her skill, nor does she sugar coat it to try and get compliments. Overall, he could see them being friends. 

 

“Here we are at the breezy seashore village of Feyiv, and our two lovers have perfect weather for their first public outing.” The reporters muse not too far off from Keith and Acxa. “Along with Acxa’s parent’s Susan and Arnold.” Ezor and Romelle hold sun umbrellas above Sanda, Shiro, and Adam who walk with Acxa’s parents idly behind. Shiro is walking Kosmo and whispering in Adam’s ear, faces seemingly satisfied. 

 

“It must be rather hard to get to know each other this way.” The reporter says and Keith and Acxa can’t help but roll their eyes, waving at them. “Oh look! They’re waving at us.” 

 

Just as they think that have found peace, Keith’s scarf flies off the back of his neck and he groans, turning around to grab it. 

 

“Oh, I got it!” 

 

“Wait, wait, Acxa.” Keith says. “It’s okay! I got it!” 

 

“No, no! A prince should not run for his scarf.” 

 

And then they’re both racing down the beach to grab it, and when they are neck and neck, Acxa leans over and puts her lips close to Keith’s ears. “Now fall down.” 

 

“What?” Keith furrows his brow, but before she can answer she lets out a very fake and high pitched squeal and pushes Keith to the ground. She rolls over next to him in the sand and starts giggling like a maniac, and Keith looks at her as if she’s insane. But her eyes tell him to p _ lay along _ , and he forces out a few laughs too, letting Acxa wrap the scarf around him. 

 

“You’re a terrible actor.” Acxa bites through a fake smile that the camera’s are no-doubt eating up. “You’re going to need to work on that if we’re going to get married.” 

 

* * *

 

For the next date they plan, Keith is a little more comfortable, and Acxa is still doing all the work. They decide to stay local and play a leisurely game of badminton in the gardens, surrounded by less reporters but quite a few guards and Ezor and Romelle to hold umbrellas over the two. Hunk is there this time, giving Keith a good amount of moral support just from his presence. 

 

“Good shot.” Keith says as Acxa hits a hard spike out of his reach but within bounds. “I wonder if we should stop playing sports so I stop looking like an idiot.” 

 

“You mean you want me to make you look better?” Acxa blinks innocently, twirling in her tiny tennis skirt hyperbolically. 

 

“I would love that.” Keith smiles, lightly swinging his racket.

 

So Acxa makes a very obvious purposeful miss of the birdie and falls flat on her ass, letting out a little squeal like before. 

 

Keith stands there aghast, completely unresponsive like before. Ezor, Romelle, and three guards rush to go help Acxa up, but Hunk puts up an arm to stop them. “No, no, let them bond!” 

 

He turns to Keith giving him a pointed raise of his eyebrows and a head nudge. “ _Go help her._ ” He mouths. 

 

“Uh,” Keith frantically looks around for the cooler and grabs a bag of ice out of it, and then clumsily kneels down next to Acxa. She nurses her ankle dramatically, giving a few “ _ oo _ ”s of pain and “ _ ah _ ”s of agony for show. 

 

“T-there you go.” He says, plopping the ice pack down on her ankle. Acxa winces at the cold and Keith sits there motionless, not knowing what to do.

 

“ _ More comforting _ .” She mouths at him, and Keith widens his eyes in understanding, putting his hand over the ice pack on her leg, still sitting a few feet away. 

 

She motions for him to come closer and he scooches in, looking up at her face and trying to give a genuine smile. And then Acxa throws back her head and laughs genuinely, and Keith can’t help but join in. He doesn’t blame her for shaking her head at how stupid and bad at this he is. 

 

* * *

 

In the successive weeks, Keith and Acxa go on a plethora of dates. Each one perfectly planned out, each one highly guarded and heavily watched, each one with Ezor and Romelle trailing behind them at a close distance. 

 

Sometimes, when they take walks together through the garden, Keith will find Lance sitting on a bench somewhere, eating an apple like an asshole and reading some dumb book for idiots. He spends way too much time avoiding a look at Lance and Lance spends way too much time staring. It’s very annoying, especially when Lance makes a big deal about moving his reading spot when Acxa and Keith walk by. 

 

“Is that that Altean guy who’s trying to take the throne?” Acxa asks once. 

 

“Yeah. His name’s Lance. The King invited him to stay with us. He’s an asshole.” Keith grumbles. 

 

Acxa looks at him walking away and then looks back at Keith. “He’s cute.” 

 

“I know.” Keith says without hesitation while narrowing his eyes. 

 

Keith can’t see Acxa’s expression when he agrees, but she links her arm through his and walks a little closer, bumping her hip into his. For some reason, it’s comforting. 

 

\-- 

 

After one long walk by the castle ponds, Acxa sits Keith down under a big willow tree. She was quiet, which was relatively unusual for her, but still sharp, which was not. 

 

“Listen Keith.” She finally says.“Every marriage in my family for the past 200 years has been arranged, and--” 

 

“Acxa?” Keith stops him. “Could you try and talk without moving your lips? The lip-readers have binoculars.” 

 

Across the gates, reporters are lining up and watching the couple, cameras pointing and micrones being spat into at furious rates. 

 

Acxa sighs. “I have something for you.” 

 

“Oh. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Keith tries to say politely as Acxa stares at him intensely. 

 

“Keith. I want you to know that I think you’re a wonderful person.” 

 

Keith furrowed his brow. “Okay.” 

 

“And I also want you to know that...this whole thing isn’t really ideal for me either.” 

 

“Acxa--” 

 

“Nope. Let me talk.” 

 

Keith deflates. “Okay.” 

 

Acxa sighs again, leaning in to press her lips up against Keith’s ear. She whispers slowly and lowly. “There’s a ring in your right pocket. I had Ezor put it in there before we went out. You’re going to propose to me.” 

 

She leans back and looks into Keith’s eyes intently. He can feel his fingers start to shake around the bench he found himself grasping onto. “Okay?” Acxa asks. 

 

And of course it wasn’t okay. Of course Keith didn’t really want this. And even though Acxa had never said it right out, she knew he didn’t too. There was always something unspoken between them--something unspoken between everyone who ever made small talk with Keith about getting married to a woman. 

 

If there’s one other reason besides keeping this thrown that pushes Keith to reach into his pocket and get down one knee, it’s Keith’s utter respect for Acxa. 

 

Keith opens the leather box with the ring and turns away from the reporters. “Why couldn’t you just propose to me?” 

 

Acxa, whose face is still turned to the lip-readers, doesn’t respond and plasters her fake with mock surprise. She nods furiously and pulls Keith up into an exaggerated hug before again whispering in his ear. “Our society is fucked, Your Highness."


End file.
